Beautiful
by Higanjima
Summary: Cain seeks to mark Isaak as his, but what will Dietrich make of such a flagrant misuse of his master? Warning: rated for mature adult content.
1. Dominance

Cain watched his mage from the shadows with interest. _His mage._ Now where had that come from? Leaning against a crumbling stone pillar at the edge of an open courtyard garden, the Crusnik contemplated this for a moment and a slow smile graced pale lips. In a way, he supposed, Isaak had become his. For a mere Methuselah, he had shown himself to possess great magical prowess. His strength and power had been enough to knit together this broken body piece by bloody piece until Cain once more felt whole, if not quite entire. Since that day, the raven-haired beauty had never been far from his thoughts and Cain had found himself deliberately seeking his company, even just to sit and drink in the Methuselah's beauty. That was when the glances and caresses had begun. Despite his inclinations, Cain had kept his ministrations gentle. A long look and sweep of the fingers through dark locks; a reassuring squeeze to the shoulder, a feather touch to an alabaster cheek. Each time Isaak had permitted the caress, thin lips parted slightly, but his eyes had been veiled and Cain had wished more than anything to be able to read those closed thoughts.

Now his body ached for more. Ached in a way he had never felt before and it was driving him wild.

Isaak remained oblivious to his presence, his full concentration on the simple red rose which hovered above his palm. Under his careful conjuring it turned slowly on its axis, the petals filling out and opening. Whispered words and a gentle flick of the fingers brought dew shimmering across its silky surface, the droplets glinting in the dim moonlight. "Kirei desu…" Sharp eyes looked up with a start and the illusion vanished. "Cain-sama…I did not hear you approach." The Methuselah did not rise from the low wall, but bowed gracefully, a white-gloved hand placed over his heart. There was a blush upon his cheeks and it was adorable. Several strands of dark hair blew idly in the breeze and Cain reached forward, catching them and twining the silky length around his fingers. "What needs my mage with conjuring tricks?" He asked, tugging at the captive locks and bringing those enticing lips impossibly close to his own. A pair of dark eyes seemed to reach inside his very soul. "Practice aids perfection…my Lord." Cain closed the distance and teased the Methuselah's sweet mouth open, plunging his tongue forward and swirling around sharp fangs. Isaak's breath hitched and he reached to cup his lord's cheek, breaking the kiss carefully. "Cain…" The smile held a hint of fang as Cain reached for the knot of Isaak's black tie and tugged. "Off…"

Swallowing, Isaak reached up and pulled the offending article of clothing free, unfastening the top buttons of his shirt and slipping his black coat from his shoulders. The night air was chilly and Isaak shivered, but it was not from the cold. He knew he was in no position to refuse anything the gorgeous blonde wished. Cain slid gracefully down beside him and assaulted his mouth hard, his kisses enough to bruise as they travelled across his cheek and down the line of his throat. He nipped the tender flesh and brought a deep exhalation from Isaak. Fingers worked at the buttons on his shirt, exposing more perfect skin and his lips quested down further, their touch leaving a burning trail along pale flesh. Isaak tipped his head back and bit his lip, stifling the moans which threatened to rip from him. He tasted copper and bit harder, fangs sinking into the tender flesh. The sharp tang of blood filled Cain's nostrils and he straightened. Two thin red lines trickled from the corners of Isaak's mouth and Cain leant in to lick the offending wounds gently. One hand moved to squeeze the bulge now clearly evident between the mage's legs. "This is not a time for restraint, Isaak." He admonished. "But Cain-sama…" The hand on his groin closed more tightly and Isaak winced. "Does it bother you if we are observed?" He asked, sharp nails now digging through the black cloth and into Isaak's hard length. "No…ahh…" Came the strangled reply. "Good."

Cain made short work of the Methuselah's remaining clothes and marvelled for a moment at his beauty. His length looked as if it had been carved of the finest marble; the dusky pink trace around the tip the only indication that it was indeed flesh and blood. Sliding from the wall, Cain closed his mouth over the head and took his whole length. Isaak writhed, his lips parted in a silent scream. Cain hummed against him; he would need to teach this reserved Methuselah how to let go. Hands encircled Isaak's hips and held them whilst he continued to tease, the tips of nails drawing blood along the soft skin of his inner thigh. Isaak bucked, a sob wrenching from his throat and hands reaching to tangle in blonde locks. "Stop…please…C…C…Cain…stop…" The Crusnik stilled and in one fluid moment, flipped Isaak onto his front and buried himself deep inside the Methuselah. "Gahhhhhh…" Eyes flew wide and Isaak groped at the wall desperately. "Relax…" He purred against the other's ear, gathering waist-length hair and smoothing it away from broad shoulders. Squeezing his eyes shut, Isaak focused on allowing the tension to drain away from his body and waited for Cain to move. It seemed like an age before the Crusnik began to slide out and as he did so, Isaak felt his pleasure begin to crackle, the air around suddenly charged with static. Cain drove forward, increasing his pace. "Ah…ah…oh…" Each perfectly placed thrust brought a new keening wail from the mage. All thoughts of decorum now forgotten.

From the shadows Dietrich slid slowly to the ground, a hand grasped around his own throbbing erection and tears of frustration in his eyes.

Panting with exertion, Cain matched his thrusts with harsh strokes of Isaak's own length and the mage's groans became more insistent. "Let me hear you Isaak…let me hear your pleasure…" He whispered, fangs now extended and eyes glowing red. He wound not bite yet, not until the moment was right. He knew how excruciating his bite could be. As the pace increased, Isaak felt his body spasm and give in with a wild shriek. A sound matched by Cain's own roar as he buried fangs deep into Isaak's throat, drinking the man's pleasure as his own exploded.

When his pleasure had subsided, Cain became dimly aware of a rasping chuckle which bubbled from the Methuselah's lips and drew back, conscious suddenly that he may have taken too much. Isaak lay prostrate across the stone wall, too tired and too sated to move and yet he was laughing, despite the stinging ache at his throat. "Cain…sama…" He whispered, a tear slipping from glazed, half-closed eyes. "Thank you…"

Isaak weighed nothing in his arms as he carried the Methuselah to the rooms he shared with the puppet master and laid him beneath the covers. He was already lost in a light slumber and Cain allowed himself a rare chance to smile as he brushed tangled and damp hair from the mage's face. It was not love as such. Cain was not sure he even knew what love was, but he felt a great protectiveness just then. He would keep this one alive if he could and who knew, perhaps he too could learn what it was to be desired.


	2. Submission

Dietrich watched the Methuselah slumber with hooded eyes. His master. _His_ and no-one else's. What he had witnessed had provoked two reactions in the Terran puppeteer. The first had been jealously. A deep and vengeful hatred against the beautiful Crusnik which was as futile as it was unjust. Isaak had never given him cause to even hope, so why did he feel so betrayed? The second emotion had been one of pure unbridled lust. Watching Cain bury himself within the proud mage had brought his own climax ripping through his body. It had taken all his iron control not to scream his frustration and alert them to his presence. It would have certainly spelled death.

Now in the silence of the chamber the two shared together, Dietrich surveyed the damage Cain's love-making had caused. Isaak lay sprawled beneath the sheets, his breathing a little too fast, his cheeks a little too flushed. At his throat, two inflamed puncture wounds oozed fresh blood, coating the bedlinen with crimson drops. Isaak would need to feed and Dietrich could think of nothing better than offering himself.

He slid down onto the bed and smoothed sweat-soaked tresses from Isaak's beautiful face. Two dark eyes fluttered open and then closed once more, brows knitting and a hand reaching for his torn throat. "I am all aflame…" The mage whispered, curling further into the comfort of the bed. Dietrich wound strong arms around the Methuselah's back and lifted him into his embrace. Those impossibly dark eyes caught Dietrich's lighter auburn gaze. "What is this, my protégé…" He asked quietly, the light chuckle dying to a sharp hiss as Dietrich bared his exposed throat. "Drink…"

"Dietrich…" The Terran turned his head a fraction, forcing the vein as close to the surface as he could. "Drink." Came the more forceful reply. "Mmmm…" Dietrich watched his master's eyes turn a delicate shade of crimson. A pink tongue licked a wet line from collar bone to earlobe, circling the tender flesh and wresting a breathy gasp from Dietrich. Sharp fangs hovered over the exposed vein for a moment, a drop of saliva falling onto his skin and then Isaak bit down, sliding fangs into the tender flesh.

No fairytales nor hearsay could have prepared Dietrich for the hedonism of a Methuselah's bite. It had been said that when a vampire bit in true pleasure, men would die willingly to give every last drop. In that moment, Dietrich understood why. It was like nothing he had ever felt and it drew a deep groan from him, his length hardening immediately. Hands encircled the young Terran, bringing his body closer until he fit snuggly in Isaak's cool embrace as the Methuselah drank his fill. Dietrich closed his eyes and surrendered completely, not caring in that moment whether he lived or died. "Kirei…desu…" The whispered words stilled Isaak and the Methuselah drew back as gently as he could, licking stray drops from the wounds until they began to heal.

In the silence that followed Isaak listened to the heightened breathing of his protégé. He had yet to move. His head was thrown back, auburn eyes closed in pleasure. He was truly beautiful. Leaning forward, Isaak captured those rosy lips with his own and kissed the Terran deeply. Dietrich's response was instantaneous. Hands reached to tangle in raven tresses, his tongue dipping to caress fangs. He could taste the heady copper of his own blood and it set his pulse racing. Isaak allowed himself to be pushed back towards the sheets and was assaulted with tender kisses which began at his lips and travelled to his neck and collar bone. A lazy hand buried itself in chestnut locks and Isaak did not seek to restrain the moan that left his lips as Dietrich found a particularly sensitive spot at the base of his neck and licked it delicately. "Careful my protégé. You are strong, I know…but I have taken much from you…" His heated gaze rolled up to meet unfocused eyes and Dietrich licked the spot again, soliciting another deep groan. "I will not break." The breathy chuckle only fuelled his desire. "Take from me what you wish." Isaak whispered, his smile tender. Dietrich shook his head. "I do not wish to take…I am not like him."

Dietrich resumed his kisses, lips burning a path across the taught flesh of the Methuselah's stomach and down to the line of dark hair above his straining length. Hands caressed the mage's inner thigh and his eye lingered on the bloody scratches. Dipping down, he licked them tenderly in the hopes that it might soothe away any lingering discomfort. His ministrations drew gasps and sighs from the older participant and then he was stroking Isaak's length, each movement running from base to tip and back again.

Those eyes had once more bled crimson; such a gorgeous colour. Isaak rose slightly, propping himself on both elbows so he could watch the Terran's ministrations. His breath came in short pants and when Dietrich took him whole, hands convulsed in the sheets. "Ahh…Di…trich…" The curving smile against super sensitive flesh only increased his pleasure and Isaak found himself mewling inarticulately. "I…I will not last…Di…I…can't…" The Terran slowed and then stopped altogether, leaving Isaak at the point of orgasm and suddenly frustrated. Any harsh words, however, died on his lips when they were captured in a gentle kiss. "I want you inside me." Dietrich purred, tugging at his own rumpled uniform.

Isaak watched his pupil strip and return to the bed, gloriously nude. A hand grasped his erection once more and guided him into the tight entrance, impaling the mage deep within himself. The Methuselah roared, pushing the man down onto the bed so he could ride the Terran. "That's it." Cooed Dietrich. "Take from me…freely…" Breathing heavily, Isaak forced himself in and out, his pace slow at first and then faster, with punishing force. Beneath him Dietrich wore an expression of pure abandon. Eyes were closed, long lashes making perfect circles against smooth cheeks. With each thrust, the young Terran bucked, his breath leaving him in pants. "Dietrich…" Isaak growled, forcing himself deeper. Those eyes fluttered open and a smile spread across his face. "Take me…take all of me…" That was it. Something inside Isaak seemed to snap and he plunged forward. Faster, harder and faster again. Around them the air cracked with blue sparks and Dietrich screamed, each charge snapping against his bare skin. In that moment, Isaak's eyes flew wide and the force of his orgasm rocked them. Head was thrown back and he shouted the Terran's name, spilling inside him.

They lay quietly for what seemed like an age. A tangle of damp limbs and dark hair. When Isaak came to himself, he drew a shaky breath and surveyed his own brand of destruction. Angry welts covered the Terran's skin where his magic had lashed out. The smell of burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils and he reached up with a trembling hand to trace the contours of the still form beneath him. "Forgive me…" Dietrich laughed, his eyes alight with mirth. "For what?" Came the lazy reply. Moving carefully so as not to cause the other any further pain, Isaak licked each wound tenderly, watching as the welts became less angry and then disappeared altogether under his healing touch. "We should do this again, my master."

"You…would wish to?" He sounded so puzzled. Dietrich laughed and stole one final kiss before sliding from the bed and reaching for his clothes. "Baka. Kirei desu."


End file.
